


Merry Christmas, Marco

by ColorfulMadness (livingbard)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, College AU, Fluffy, M/M, Secret Santa, dorks at christmas, dorks living together, everyone's alive and whole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 23:49:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1099999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livingbard/pseuds/ColorfulMadness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my present for don't-heichou-me on tumblr. I hope you like it, heichou!<br/>Just a series of Chrismases for my favorite dorks, Jean and Marco.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Merry Christmas, Marco

 

 

Jean slammed the door behind him, shaking snowflakes out of his hair and yanking his soaked sweater off over his head. “MARCO!” He shouted, peeling off his damp jeans. He received a faint shout of “Polo!” in response. “IT’S A FREAKING BLIZZARD OUT THERE.” 

  
Marco popped his head out from the kitchen, then ducked back to avoid being nailed with a soggy sweater launched by his very own Jean Kirschtein. “Not very nice, Jean.” He called, stepping back into the hall.

 

Jean, glaring at his partner, was stripped down to his slightly-wet underwear.

 

Marco sighed. “You’re going to catch a cold standing there like that. Go take a hot shower or something.” 

 

“Who are you, my mom?” Jean  stuck his tongue out and gathered up his wet clothing. Marco walked forward and kissed his cheek.

 

“No, I’m the guy who gets to deal with you being sick.” Jean was a horrible patient to have. He’d moan and complain and act like he was dying with just a little cold. Even Jean knew how bad he was.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, heading for the bathroom. Marco watched him go with a slight smile on his lips, and returned to the kitchen. It was his night to make dinner, and, having paid more attention to the weather reports than Jean, he’d decided to go with tenderloin stew. It had been simmering most of the day, and he just had to check it one more time…

 

Jean had just stepped in the shower when he heard a crash and a scream. It sounded…inhuman. Heart pounding, he grabbed a towel and ran to the kitchen, wrapping it around his waist. He found Marco on the ground, clutching his face, spilled broth singeing his hand and clothes. Jean instantly shut down and began moving instead of thinking, throwing on clothes, getting Marco in the car, driving in the blizzard to the hospital.

 

In the end, he lost an eye. The nurse, a guy with brown hair and green eyes that Jean would have liked to punch, told Jean it could have been much worse, and that the scars on his face would fade with time. When they finally let him in to see Marco, (he hadn’t been able to see him sooner because he wasn’t immediate family), his freckled angel had smiled at him brightly, the right side of his face covered in bandages. Jean had immediately hugged him, a little too tightly, disconnecting Marco from his heart monitor and consequently being scolded by a short, scowling doctor with dark black hair and a glare that could’ve cut diamonds. Jean was too relieved, finally able to see Marco, to care.

 

They went home two days later, and a week after that the bill came.

 

“Jesus, Jean, our insurance won’t cover this.” Mumbled Marco, looking up from the statement.

 

“We’ll just have to pay out-of-pocket, then.” Jean shrugged, trying to act less stressed than he was feeling. He didn’t want Marco to feel guilty, it had been an accident, and their insurance was the cheapest, lowest coverage they could find.  “It’ll be fine. We’ve got stuff saved up for emergencies, remember?”

 

“Yeah….but….” Marco sounded so miserable; it broke Jean’s heart. “It’s gonna take almost all of that. What about Christmas?”

  
Oh right. Jean had nearly forgotten about Marco’s favorite holiday- and their anniversary. They’d been together for almost five years, ever since their freshman year of college.

 

* * *

 

  
Neither of them had been able to make it home for the holidays.  Jean didn’t really mind, he was glad to be gone. Marco, on the other hand, was pretty bummed about missing, well, everything. Jean had only known his best friend for a few months, but he’d already learned quite a bit about Marco Bodt, and he was about to learn one more detail: Marco Loved Christmas. Not loved, Loved. Everything.

 

He Loved hanging stockings above a fireplace or reasonable substitute, he Loved Christmas movies, he Loved carols, he Loved making Christmas cards and above all else, he Loved decorating the Christmas tree.

 

Jean learned this very quickly, when his usually happy friend was subdued and sad throughout the first part of their winter break. Christmas eve, Jean had had enough.

 

“Hey, Marco?”

  
“Yeah?” They were sprawled on the floor playing a videogame. Jean was kicking Marco’s butt repeatedly.

 

“What’s up with you?” He killed Marco’s character yet again.

 

“It’s nothing.”

 

“Like hell. C’mon.”

 

“I guess…” He shrugged. “I just miss all of the holiday things, you know?”

 

Jean did not know. He’d never liked the holiday season, it made people crazy and there was waaay to much gingerbread, but suddenly he wanted t o do it all, if it would put a smile back on Marco’s face.

 

He sighed. “Come on, then.”

 

“What?”

 

“We’re going out.” Since Marco didn’t have a car, Jean’s crappy sedan acted as both of their primary modes of transportation.

 

“Jean, it’s not a big deal-“

 

He flicked the TV off and hauled Marco up and out the door before he could finish his thought. They were halfway down the hall when-

  
“Jean! I need shoes!”

 

Twenty minutes later (Jean forgot his keys after Marco’d gotten his shoes) they were in the car and Marco was still none the wiser as to where they were going.

 

“Jean, where are we-“

  
“You’ll see.”

 

“But-“

 

“I said you’d see. Close your eyes.”

 

“Wh-“

“Just close your eyes, Marco, dammit!”

 

Marco did so, a little reluctant, and they sat in silence for a while before Jean broke it.

 

“What do you want for Christmas?”

 

Marco frowned. That was a weird question; he knew Jean didn’t really care for Christmas. He’d tried really hard to not seem sad that he was missing the holidays with his family. He knew it would only annoy Jean.

 

“Why?”

 

“Marco, I swear to god, can’t you just answer the question?” Jean snapped, hands tightening on the steering wheel. For about a month now, almost everything Marco said made his stomach clench.  His palms would get sweaty when he saw him, and every time he saw that stupid smile his heart would pound painfully in his chest. Jean was old enough to recognize the signs of a crush, and stupid enough to pray it’d go away. It hadn’t. Instead it got worse, to the point that even one word from Marco could make him crazy. He just wanted Marco to be happy, which is why he was doing all of this in the first place. That, and Jean had decided to tell Marco how he felt. On Christmas.

 

He knew Marco would love that. If, you know. He felt the same way. And stuff.

 

“I guess….” Finally, Marco was taking it seriously. He thought about it for a pretty long time. “I guess I’d just want you to actually enjoy Christmas, for once.”

 

Jean’s eyes were glued to the road, and even so he knew exactly how Marco looked as he said it, hands over his eyes, a smile tugging his stupid perfect soft lips back. Well hell. Jean was screwed.

 

Another fifteen after that, the car rolled to a stop.  

 

“Can I look now?” Marco asked curiously, hands still over his eyes. Jean looked over, heart in his throat. “One second.” He hopped out, ran around the car, stumbled a bit over the uneven gravel, opened Marco’s door, helped him out, and pointed him in the right direction.

  
“Yeah. Go ahead.”

 

Marco opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the trees. They were tall, dusted with snow, and green. The second thing he saw was the sign.

“Hanji’s Christmas Tree Lot”

 

His brown eyes widened, his jaw dropped in disbelief. It turned into the biggest smile Jean had ever seen on his friend’s face.

 

“Are you SERIOUS?!” He yelped, gazing at the trees like, well, a kid on Christmas.

 

Jean nodded and mumbled, “I mean, it is Christmas Eve. I figured…you should at least have your tree, even if you weren’t home.”

 

Marco turned and threw his arms around his best friend’s neck. “JEAN!” He shouted, nearly crushing him. “You’re the BEST!” He let go and nearly sprinted for the tree lot, while Jean staggered back and clutched his chest, trying to get himself under control and calm his aching heart.

 

Hanji turned out to be a cheerful woman with glasses and reindeer antlers who helped them find a tree.

 

“We live in a dorm, so it needs to be kind of small…” Jean reluctantly told her, Marco still bouncing on the balls of his feet staring at the biggest tree in the lot. Jean’s words must have floated somewhere he could hear them, because he walked over to Jean and Hanji.

 

“Right, sorry.” Marco rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. “I’m just excited. I didn’t think I’d have a tree this year.” His adorably beaming smile nearly killed Jean, and Hanji beamed right back at him.

 

“Come on! I’ll show you our mini lot, then.” She took them to a roped-off section where the trees were between three and six feet tall, and let Marco loose. Jean turned to her to inquire about price.

 

Jean rubbed the back of his head. “Thanks a lot, Ms. Hanji. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…. Do you also sell lights?”

 

“Of course we do!”

 

“I’ll take whatever this can get me. I’m paying for it, no matter what he tries to do.” Jean handed Hanji some bills, and indicated Marco, lost in the land of trees. Hanji nodded. “Our small trees typically run in this range, but as it’s Christmas Eve….” She stroked her chin and smiled. “I’ll just give you one, how does that sound?”

 

Jean gaped. “Wha- you can’- are you serious?!”

 

She nodded, grinning. “Of course! I’ll throw the tree in with lights, how does that sound? We’ve got some spare garlands hanging in the back, and we weren’t expecting any more customers this year. We would’ve had to toss them anyway.”

 

A very shocked Jean took the boxes back to his car, swore to Hanji they’d never go anywhere else for  tree, and returned to Marco, just in time for Marco to call him over.

 

“Jean! Look at this one!”

 

The tree Marco had found was about four feet tall and filled out. It was a perfect Christmas tree, minus about three feet. Jean found himself smiling, and didn’t really know why. Well, of course he did. It was because Marco was looking at him, excitement clear on his face, so happy. This was the best gift Jean could have hoped for.

 

“Come on, let’s get it home then.”

  
“Don’t we have to bu-“

“I already took care of it, don’t worry. Hanji’s letting us take it because it’s Christmas Eve and I’ve promised her we’ll come back every year.”

 

“We will?” Marco asked, tilting his head to the side, a different kind of smile on his lips. Jean felt nervous, seeing that smile.

 

“Yeah. I figured it could be a…tradition…”

 

With that Marco’s eyes lit up even more (if it was possible) and they strapped the tree onto Jean’s car, then drove back to the dorms. They got it into Marco’s room with relative ease (security was super lax over break, Jean had moved in with Marco because his dorm was one of the few not closed) and then they stood back, looking at the tree with pride.

 

“Too bad we don’t have any lights.” Marco sighed. Jean fought the urge to smile and shrugged.

 

“Yeah. Whatever though.”

 

Marco frowned, then smiled again. “I know! We can string popcorn! I’ll go make some!” He turned and ran to the kitchen, and Jean took the opportunity to hide the lights. He was going to take advantage of Marco’s deep sleeping tonight. Uh wait. Um. No. Not like that. To put the lights on the tree. Er.

 

Marco returned with three bags of popcorn and passed one to Jean. “You string one bag, I’ll string the other, and we can eat the third!” He said cheerfully. He had remembered Jean’s love of popcorn.

 

“Sounds good.” Jean got out some thread and needles. He’d learned to sew well enough to repair rips in clothes. If he hadn’t, he’d quickly either run out of clothes or wear only hole-y things. Jean was pretty rough on clothing.  “Do you want me to put on a Christmas movie or something?”

 

With Marco’s resounding “YES!!” Jean went and found one of his personal favorites, How the Grinch Stole Christmas. He always felt bad for the Grinch, who only wanted a little peace and quiet time. Whenever he said this, people usually stared at him like he’d grown horns- or, to be more festive, antlers. He never understood that, either. By the end of the movie everyone was happy, wasn’t that the point?

 

They continued watching Christmas movies and stringing popcorn until they ran out of space on the tree (which was a while before they ran out of popcorn). Marco, by dint of fishing hooks and some trinkets, managed to create some makeshift ornaments.

  
“Look at you, being all creative!” He teased, ruffling Marco’s hair before settling down on his makeshift bed of pillows and blankets.  “Let’s get to sleep before Santa comes,  or he won’t deliver our presents!” Jean whisper-mocked.

 

Marco smacked his face with a pillow and climbed into his own bed. “Shut up, Jean.”

 

A few hours later, Marco’s even breathing (and slight snores) told Jean it was time to get to work. He was at it for about an hour before he stood back. “Perfect.” He whispered to himself, looking satisfied, and setting a single present under the tree. He slid back into his cocoon of blankets and drifted off.

 

Three hours later he was woken by Marco bouncing on top of him, which was a very bad way for the object of a crush to wake up their crusher. Jean sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “Wazzit Marco? Iz st.ill dark”

 

Marco, aware of Jean’s sleep habits, handed him a cup of coffee. “Clouds out. It’s snowing. C’mon, it’s CHRISTMAS, Jean!! Get uppppppppppP!!!!!”

 

Just like a little kid. “Okay, okay. Chill out.” In a few minutes they were both over by the tree, pajamas, bed head, and all.

 

“Look!” Both of them said dramatically, at the same time, pointing. They paused.

 

“That was weird,”

“I’ll say.”

 

“What were you pointing at?”

 

“There’s a present. You?”

 

“Same thing?’ They stared at each other, and back down. There were two presents under the tree.

 

“When did you-“ Same time.

 

Another pause.

 

“Screw it. Marco, here.” Jean picked up the wrapped box and handed it to him. Marco picked his up and handed it to Jean.

 

“You didn’t have to get me anything…” Marco said softly.

 

“Neither did you.” Jean muttered, looking at the neatly wrapped box in his hands. It was a much better wrapping job than he could ever do. Marco’s wrapped present looked as though it had been in a war with tape and lost.

 

“But I wanted to.”

 

Jean swallowed hard. “Just….open it already, okay?”

 

Marco, after frowning for a second, gave up on trying to do it nearly and tore the paper off. Inside was a plain brown box, which when opened revealed….

 

“Oh, Jean.” Marco whispered, staring at it. Jean had used some glass, pipe cleaners and metal wire to create the outlining frame of an angel with colored glass wings. Marco gently lifted it out of the box. “It’s beautiful.” He breathed, in awe at the delicate work. He knew Jean likes to make wire outlines of things in his spare time, he’d told Marco before that, as a kid, he’d had severe problems with sitting still and paying attention. One of his councilors had started him with molding pipe cleaners to make simple shapes, like trees and flowers, to keep his hands busy and his mind focused and he’d just stuck with it. Eventually he progressed to molding flexible wire, and now it was something he did without a second thought.

  
Marco had never expected him to make something like this for a Christmas present.

 

Jean looked at him nervously. “You…like it?” Marco just nodded, forcing his eyes away from the angel and to Jean.

  
“Open yours. I’m afraid it’s nothing as great as this…”

 

Jean fumbled with the paper and opened it. Inside was a t-shirt with Jean’s favorite band’s logo. He pulled it out, and felt something heavy wrapped in the folds of the cloth. He carefully unfolded the shirt to reveal a silver picture frame, containing a picture of the two of them at Halloween. Jean had been a mummy, Marco a werewolf. The two of them had their arms slung across each other’s shoulders, and both were smiling. Jean remembered the moment well.

 

_“Jean! Marco!” Connie had yelled at them. “Say cheese, guys!”_

_Marco had thrown his arm over Jean’s shoulders and Jean had done the same. He glanced over at his best friend, and his heart beat a little faster. At the time, he didn’t understand it._

_“Hey, Jean?”_

_“Yeah, Marco?”_

_“I’m really glad you’re my best friend.”_

_“….me too.”_

_FLASH_

_It was the best picture either of them had ever taken, because they both looked so genuinely…happy._

Jean bit his lip and looked up at Marco. “This is incredible! Where’d you get a copy of the photo..?”

 

“I asked Connie for one. I got it for you because I’d never seen you smile like that….I wanted you to remember the moment when you were that happy.” Marco looked away sheepishly. “I guess it’s kind of corny…” Marco set his angel down and stared at his empty hands. Jean set down his picture, stared at Marco, and tackled him back onto the pile of blankets and pillows.

 

Marco squeaked.  “Jean! Wha-“

  
And then Jean’s mouth was on his and they were kissing. His lips were chapped, they both had morning breath, and it was too messy, but at the same time it was absolutely perfect. 

 

Jean pulled back and looked down at Marco, fear in his eyes.

  
“Jean,” Marco said, breathing hard. “Wha-“

 

“I really like you, Marco!” Jean blurted. “When I see you my heart starts pounding and my hands get sweaty and I feel sick to my stomach but in the good way and I just want you to know that you’ve got the best smile I’ve ever seen and all I want to do is make you smile like that all the time and hold your hand and do stupid couple-y things and I know you’re not supposed to fall for your best friend but dammit Marco I really like you okay and I ju-“

 

Then Marco’s lips were on Jeans, and they were kissing again, a little less awkward, a little more sweet.

Marco pulled back first. “I like you too, Jean.”

 

His mouth fell open. “What? Why?!”

 

Marco laughed. “Because you’re sarcastic and stubborn, and you pretend you’re a tough guy, but you feed stray cats behind the biology building and you took me to get a Christmas tree and you sat with me as I threw up after the Halloween party, and you’re the most secretly nice person I’ve ever met, and I want to make you smile every day and spend every Christmas like this for the rest of my life.”

 

Jean’s eyes were wide and he bit his lip. He could feel the tears beginning to form.

 

“Jean,” Marco laughed, “Are you crying?”

 

He shook his head so fast his neck cracked. “No way! Just, stay there.” He wiped his eyes furiously. “I have one more present for you.” He got up and stumbled over to the tree, blinking away the tears. He knelt down. Marco, curious, propped himself up on his hands and watched.

 

Jean plugged in the chord, and…

 

The tree lit up.

 

Hanji was right, they were perfect. White lights laced with blues, reds, and greens. 

 

Marco gasped. “Jean….” He stood up, walked over, and placed his angel on the top. “Now it’s perfect.” He smiled and kissed Jean’s cheek. Jean turned and kissed his lips once, softly, and they embraced in front of the glowing tree.

 

“Merry Christmas, Jean.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Marco.”

 

* * *

 

 

And here they were, five years later, and Marco was still worried about Christmas, more than his own damn eye.

  
“I guess we’ll just have to cut back this year.” Jean said, taking hold of Marco’s hand. “We can just stay here. I’m sure your parents will understand.”

 

“I don’t want them to worry about me…”

 

“You kind of have to tell them, Marco. You’ve got an eye patch. It’s obvious.”

 

“I know but…can it wait until after the holidays?”

Jean sighed. “Fine. What do you want me to tell them, then?”

“Can you just say that…we wanted to spend it alone for our five year anniversary?”

  
“I’m sure they’ll understand. I’ll just tell them money’s a little tight and we wanted to just stay in town together, okay?” Jean smiled. “What do you want for Christmas?”

 

“Don’t….you don’t have to get me anything.” Marco said, embarrassed. “We’re spending enough as it is. Let’s just not do presents this year?”

 

Jean nodded. “Okay. Instead of presents, we’ll just get a tree and decorate. Sound like a deal?”

 

Marco got up, went around the table, and hugged him. “You’re the best Christmas gift I’ve ever gotten.” He murmured into Jean’s ear, which turned red, as did the rest of Jean.

  
“Where did you learn to say stupid crap like that?” He muttered, turning around and capturing Marco’s lips in a kiss that lasted the better part of the afternoon.

 

* * *

 

 

It was Christmas Day. Despite the present ban, Jean had a small box in his pocket and a dry throat that could rival the Sahara.

 

Three weeks ago, he’d entered an old jewelry shop armed with hope and some money he’d made working a second job as holiday help at a department store. He’d had to wear an elf costume. Marco had no idea. Hopefully he never would.

 

There was a tall blonde behind the counter with a chin you could grate cheese on. “Can I help you?” He wore a plain button down shirt and slacks. His nametag was hard to decipher, Jean thought it said Erwin, maybe Irvin.

 

“Yeah. I’m looking for a ring.” Jean managed, his heart beating way too fast. He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this.

 

“What kind?” Erwin/Irvin asked, setting down a stone he’d been polishing behind the counter.

  
“I was thinking gold. Nothing fancy. It’s for a guy.” Jean fired out the sentences as if his nerves would fail him unless he said it all at once.

 

Erwin/Irvin had seen men in here like that before. They were all nerves and sweaty palms, their minds on other things. Or rather, other people. He smiled kindly at Jean. “Let me show you what we’ve got. I think I might have something that could work.”

 

Five minutes later and Jean knew he’d found it. It was a simple ring, gold, like Jean’d wanted, with three tiny diamonds set in the band.

 

“I’ll take it.”

 

And now it was now, and Jean’s heart was pounding, and his palms were sweating and his stomach was full of butterflies and he was so nervous he might pass out and he didn’t know if he’d even be able to get the words out. “Marco?”

 

His freckled angel turned around, wearing pajamas and holding a half-wrapped gift from his parents (a new watch). “Yeah?” His smile faltered. “Jean, you look like you’re about to throw up…are you feeling okay?”

 

Jean nodded. “U-uh.” He managed to get out.

  
Marco looked concerned. ‘Jean?”

 

It was now or never. Jean’s hand clenched around the box in his pocket, and he pulled it out in one jerky motion, thrusting it at Marco.

 

Marco took the box from Jean and frowned. “You weren’t supposed to get me anything…”

 

Jean wanted to be sick. “Just…open it, please.”

 

Marco unwrapped the paper and stared at the box for a second. “…Jean…” He said slowly, opening the box. “W…what is this?”  He looked back up, and nearly lost it when he saw Jean on one knee.

 

“Marco Bott, will you-“ His voice cracked, and he stared up at Marco helplessly.

 

Marco’s eye filled with tears and a smile spread across his freckled face until it threatened to split his face in half. He nodded, and laughed. “Yes, yes, of course, Jean!” Laughing and crying, he threw his arms around Jean, sending both of them tumbling backwards.

 

“Ak!”

 

And then Marco was hugging him, hugging him so tight, his face pressed against Jean’s shoulder. Jean hugged him back, starting to laugh along with him.

  
“I never expected you to propose!” Marco’s elated voice was muffled.

 

“Well, I love you and I knew I never wanted you to be with anyone else so…” Jean was on cloud nine, it was so surreal, he was just so happy.

  
“I feel the same way.” Marco looked up at him and beamed. “Don’t worry though.” He pointed to the ceiling. “I got you something, too.” 

 

Jean followed his finger upwards and turned red. “M-marco.” Mistletoe hung on the ceiling, attached to a string of rather risqué photos of Marco.

 

“Now you have to kiss me.” Marco touched the side of Jean’s face and smiled. Jean rolled his eyes, swallowing hard. After five years he was still embarrassed by little gestures like that.

 

Jean closed his eyes and leaned forward, kissing Marco softly on the lips.

 

“I love you.” He said softly, staring up at Marco’s smiling face.

 

“I love you, too. Merry Christmas, Jean.”

 

“Merry Christmas, Marco.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to my lovely Secret Santa recipient, don't-heichou-me! I hope you have a wonderful day and enjoyed this little fluffy thing. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, and as always, Kill the Titans.


End file.
